Last time I went to Paris to write, I kind of did it wrong. I got all obsessed with deadlines (who me?) – with finishing the screenplay and justifying my existence through constant action. And although I got some great work done and had creative epiphanies every second day, I really didn't need to push that hard.
In fact, I'd go way out on a limb to say NOT writing in Paris is more valuable than writing.
Think about it: EXPERIENCE is my source material. Hammering at my keyboard all day is not.
So, as much as I'm going to Paris to work on my second draft, I have a feeling much of the 'work' won't be writing. It will be wandering and staring at people. Eavesdropping. It will be going to strange burlesque shows and cabarets. It will be taking copious notes about being body-checked in the customs line and getting snubbed at the patisserie (which won't actually happen this time because I KNOW THE RULES NOW).
Maybe I'll even get brave enough to ask Surly Manager at La Fourmi what her freaking PROBLEM is.
Last time, I thought the writing was the core of my Parisian experience. Now I know the reverse is true: the experience is the core of the writing.
And YOU dear readers are going to benefit from this fact. Get ready for a daily account of Gay Paree as it really is.
Well...as it is from perspective of a girl who knows no one but lesbians and dominatrixes (dominatrices?). Who refuses to stand in line at anything resembling an Eiffel Tower or a Louvre. Who will be the only Caucasian living in a certain government-subsidized housing block across the street from the cemetery – in a studio full of taxidermied animals and 1960s nostalgia. And for whom a successful day is one where I get invited to a drag show or transsexual coming out party.
Oh, DAHLINGS...it's gonna be a trip.
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